Remaking Memories
by KayValo87
Summary: In the aftermath of Doranda, Rodney takes drastic measures to try and ease his guilt. With his life on the line, will his friends be able to bring him through it?
1. Chapter 1

As promised, here is a multi-chapter story.

So, I had been seeing a lot of takes on how McKay dealt with the aftermath of Doranda and I wanted to write a team building story, so I put the two together and this is what happened.

This story is dedicated to jennytork and San Antonio Rose for their help with some of the character and historical details.

A big thanks to dlldarkwof for her beta skills.

_**Disclaimer:** I don't even own the DVDs, much less the rights to the show._

Enjoy ...

* * *

**Chapter 1**

"Dr. McKay? Are you alright?"

Rodney barely glanced at the local scientist, waving off his concern and trying to focus on the task at hand. He was far from "alright," but his personal feelings were irrelevant. The people of this planet may have stumbled across an Ancient database. With any luck, it included locations of a few more ZPMs. After the results of Project Arcturus he was eager to make up some ground with his people. Sheppard in particular. Though he suspected the Colonel's level of anger and disappointment had dropped to levels closer to mere annoyance - despite his statement that it would take a very long time to get back to what they had - there was still the occasional reference or comment that demonstrated not all was forgiven.

_Yet._

If he could only do something that would really help the city, show them that what happened was a fluke, then he would be okay. And it was a fluke; by all accounts it should not have happened. The exotic particles were not only unpredictable, they defied everything he understood about the laws of physics. Okay, it was true that Zelenka warned him about that, but when your universe is held together by a set of laws that govern your every action it is very difficult to accept that those can be violated.

"You seem troubled."

"I am," Rodney answered irritably. "I'm trying to get work done and this voice keeps asking me if I'm okay."

"That's because I can tell you are not and people work much more efficiently when they are."

"Well, there's nothing you can do to fix the past, so I suggest we get back to work."

"But I can."

"What do you mean you can?" Rodney asked, looking up from his work. "How?"

"We have a machine," the local explained. "It will not change history, but it will give you a chance to revisit your regret in a simulated memory and grant you peace of mind through a chance to do things differently."

"But if it doesn't change anything, how does it work?"

"You will have the memory of a better outcome, a memory stronger than the negative one you carry with you. That releases the burden and allows you to live more freely."

While it sounded a lot like a placebo, Rodney was willing to try it. After all, anything that would help him focus would be better for everyone. The local explained that the machine only took a few minutes to run its course and the person connected would then wake up refreshed, as if from a dream. So, the pair headed down to where the miracle device was kept and Rodney prepared himself to change his history …

***S*G*A***

John fought hard to keep himself from yawning. While McKay had a play date with the number two scientist, the number one was sitting down with them to discuss further research into the database and any other Ancient tech they came across. As riveting as it all was, John had not slept well the night before and was seriously starting to consider excusing himself to take a nap in the jumper.

"Master Gandu?" the number two guy said nervously, sticking his head into the room. "I must speak with you."

"Nabu, can't it wait?" the chief scientist muttered. "I am talking with our guests."

While John wanted to call for a break, so the apprentice could tell his master whatever it was he had to say, the guy's next words put him on high alert.

"It concerns them, Master … well … one of them."

Ronon sat up straighter and Teyla gave the young man a pointed stare. All thoughts of sleeping gone, John stood up and towered over the trembling scientist.

"Where is Dr. McKay?"

"I'm so sorry," he blubbered, kicking John's adrenaline up a notch. "He just seemed so troubled, I thought I could help him. I was only trying to help him!"

"Nabu," Gandu gasped, standing next to the Colonel, "tell me you didn't use the machine."

"What machine," John demanded. "Where. Is. Dr. McKay?"

"He's in the memory chamber," Nabu mumbled. "I think he's dying."

While his first instinct was to break the guy's neck, the Colonel managed to restrain himself. Furthermore, their host paled at the words of his apprentice and took off down the hallway. John followed, his team and Nabu right behind him, praying that they were heading toward Rodney and that it was not too late.

_It can't be too late._

McKay may have screwed up royally back on the Doranda outpost, but no one wanted him to die because of it. Yeah, John brought it up now and then, but that was so he could remember his mistake and not let his ego get in the way again. Did his words cause Rodney to do something drastic to take the guilt away?

Gandu led them to a large chamber, not unlike the chair room back on Atlantis. In the center was a reclined platform that Rodney was strapped to, machines and monitors all round him. John gave little attention to the tech since his focus was on his friend caught in the middle. McKay's eyes were closed, but his expression was far from relaxed and his body kept twitching and jerking. It was as if the thing was some kind of shock therapy and it had gone on long enough. On top of that, bandages had been applied to his head and arm. What was that thing doing to him?

"Shut it down," he ordered, not taking his eyes off the distressed look on Rodney's face. "Shut it down **now**!"

"We can't," Gandu stated, looking over the machine's readings. "There is no way to end the session from here and if we cut the power it will destroy his mind."

"So what can we do?" Teyla asked, placing a hand on Rodney's shoulder.

Gandu didn't seem to hear her as he was absorbed in the consoles. He actually looked at lot like McKay when he is trying to deal with a problem. What was it with head scientists? Was tunnel vision and selected hearing a job requirement?

"This … this is impossible," the man muttered after a moment. "Nabu, how long has he been connected?"

"Um," the younger scientist swallowed hard. "About … an hour."

"An _hour_!" Gandu snapped, sounding just like McKay chewing out a lab tech. "Why am I only just hearing about this now?!"

"I thought I could fix it."

"You can't '_fix'_ the machine! A memory has to be played out to the end, no matter how long it takes."

"I did not think his memory would last so long."

"No, you just did not think!"

Yep, he was practically Rodney's twin.

"What's happening?" John cut in, finally getting the man's attention.

"The machine is designed to let someone relive a memory in their mind and allows the freedom to alter it," Gandu explained. "The process usually takes only a few minutes and the subject comes out refreshed and free of the regret that brought them to the memory chamber in the first place."

"But …" John coaxed, knowing there was a big one coming.

"But it is only meant to adjust one memory. One. The subject must be made aware of this and be free of any other burden before the session starts."

John could see where this was going. Rodney didn't have one bad memory, he had dozens! If the machine was trying to corrected all of them …

"Will he survive?" Ronon asked, probably not trying to sound as intimidating as it came out.

"Not at this rate," Gandu said quietly, looking back over the readings. "The machine is putting a great strain on him, both mentally and physically. I'd be surprised if he could even alter what he is experiencing at this point."

"So, he's stuck in his head, reliving his worst memories?" John asked.

"In simplest terms, yes," Gandu replied. "And with the way his body is reacting, even a mildly embarrassing memory could be catastrophic."

"What can we do," Teyla repeated. "Surely you do not suggest we stand around and watch him die."

"Of course not," Gandu sighed, "but there is no way to …"

In true McKay fashion, the man was cut off by an epiphany and moved to another console, shouting at Nabu to get some connectors out of storage. John didn't know what he was thinking, but if it saved Rodney he was all for it. After a few seconds, Gandu turned to the team.

"There is no way to stop the machine, so we have no choice but to wait for his memories to work themselves out."

"You said that would kill him," Ronon pointed out.

"Yes, but that's only because he is taking the full force of the machine. However, if someone else was connected the energy would be divided. The more people attached, the lower the strain … in theory."

It may only be a theory, but it was also the only chance they had to save Rodney. So, when Nabu returned with an armload of connectors, John grabbed one and the rest of the team followed his lead. While the scientists hooked them up, Gandu gave them an overview of the risks and side effects.

"With four of you connected, it should not be enough strain to cause physical effects, but there is no way of knowing how long the connection will last. My best guess is that the machine is going backwards through his memories, so unless he survived a culling as a boy, the worst should be over."

John grimaced at the thought. Rodney may have never experienced a culling during childhood, but kids could be cruel - particularly when you were a nerdy kid with a girl's name. The only reason John didn't have the same problems is that he was both rich and athletic … and nine kids out of ten didn't even know he had freaky math skills.

"There is a strong chance that you will be able to interact with and alter his memories," Gandu continued. "I suggest you do what you can to make them happier. The more relaxed he is the less strain on … well, on everyone."

"Got it," John confirmed, laying on the floor next to the machine. "Anything else?"

"Try not to die," Nabu offered.

"That's actually good advice," Gandu commented. "The machine makes what you are about to experience real. Any injuries you get will translate to the real world, and that's true for all of you. Take care of each other."

That went without saying. John took a second to make sure Teyla and Ronon were good to go, then he signaled the scientist to make the connection. A strange sensation spread across his body and the room faded away ...

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So, what do you think?

Let me know in the comments and I will post the first of Rodney's memories in 12-24 hours.


	2. Chapter 2

Good morning!

So I normally would wait closer to 24 hours before posing a second chapter (unless otherwise requested by a reader), but since this is a I shorter chapter I thought "why not?"

This chapter is dedicated to the anonymous reader who left me my first review and cassiope25 who asked for a friendship story featuring John and Rodney.

Once again I would like my beta, dlldarkworf, for her help in preparing this story.

Enjoy ...

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**Chapter 2**

John found himself in a bar, a college bar by the look of the patrons. Based on the music in the background and the big hair all around them, he would place the year sometime in the mid to late 80's. But where was Rodney?

"Admit it! You stole my work!"

There he was. Weaving between college kids, John led Ronon and Teyla toward the source of the voice. From across the room he could see a teenager facing off against a guy in his early 20's. Not hard to figure out which one was McKay. Even from this distance, those blue eyes blazing with anger were all too familiar.

"Go home, Rodney," the older of the two said in a condescending tone. "It's way past your bedtime."

"I'm not going anywhere until you admit it," the teenager snapped, crossing his arms.

"Fine," the other guy grinned. "Get arrested for underage drinking."

"I'm not even- Oh, just say it already! You stole my work!"

"I didn't steal anything," the other guy denied, his casual tone a bit forced. "Besides, you have no proof I did anything anyway."

"I have my notebook! Everything is in there with dates and times."

"Yeah …" the guy smirked. "I don't think you have that anymore."

As realization dawned the teen was almost shaking with fury. John wasn't exactly thrilled either, wanting nothing more than to knock out a few of the punk's teeth on behalf of his friend. They still weren't close enough to intervene with several patrons between them and the scene playing out across the room. With no better options, John switched places with Ronon and allowed him to lead them through the crowd. Maybe he would have better luck making people move.

"I'll go to the Dean!" Rodney threatened. "I'll report this!"

"You don't have the guts," the other guy challenged. "Besides, we sleep in the same room, and even _you_ need to sleep at some point."

John looked around Ronon to see the guy was now inches from his teenage friend. Rodney glared up at him, but he was obviously afraid of his larger roommate. If that wasn't enough, the jerk picked up a mug of beer from the table next to him, claimed he could do whatever he wanted and there was nothing McKay could do about it, punctuating his point by dumping the drink over the teenager's head.

"Well?" the guy mocked. "What are you going to do, _freak_?"

Rodney's face burned red with humiliation and John could see defeat in the slump of his shoulders. It wasn't hard for him to figure out how this ended the first time, but McKay didn't have back-up then. A second later an entire pitcher of beer was poured out on his roommate's head. Sputtering, the jerk turned to see who had dared- and found himself eye level with Ronon's neck.

"Well?" the Satedan asked with a feral grin. "What are you going to do, Deadman?"

The punk looked slightly terrified - okay, more than slightly - especially when John joined them. He wasn't going to shoot the kid - however satisfying it would be - but he was dressed in his fatigues and was also armed, which seemed to be enough for the overgrown bully. Beside him, Teyla stepped forward and slipped her arm around McKay's shoulders.

"Come on, Rodney. Let's get you cleaned up."

Struck dumb by what just happened, he nodded and allowed himself to be led away. John allowed himself a satisfying swat to the back of the jerk's head as he followed them out, Ronon right behind him. He kinda wished this was real, that he could actually make right what happened all those years ago. If only this had happened at Stanford. His younger self wouldn't have put up with someone being treated as Rodney had. Speaking of McKay, he still seemed a bit shell-shocked.

"You okay, buddy?" John asked as Teyla mopped the beer off his face with her handkerchief.

"Yes," he squeaked, before clearing his throat. "Yes, I'm … fine, um … I just have, uh, one question … _Who are you_?"

"We are your friends, Rodney," Teyla answered gently.

"Trust me," he said firmly, "I would would remember if I had friends who looked like you."

John was about to say something, but stopped himself. This was teenage Rodney, twenty years before he met any of them. It was only a bad memory, but one they could now turn around. So, the colonel slung his arm around McKay's damp shoulders and started leading him away from the bar.

"Tonight, we are your best friends in the world. So how about we go get you something to eat?"

He eagerly agreed - of course - so they found a place that didn't need to check his ID and picked a table. While Rodney started telling them the events that led up to the confrontation in the bar, John went up to the counter and ordered some food and drinks. He returned to the table a few minutes later with four bottles and reported their burgers would be ready soon.

"Thanks," Rodney smiled, as John handed out the drinks. "So, as I was saying, I had been working on this black hole theory for weeks - months even. Then today, I go into class and there is _my_ equation up on the board. Professor Finley starts praising the ingenuity and- Hey! This is _root beer_!"

"And you're underage."

"Come on, I can handle a _beer_!"

"Tell you what," John said, setting down his bottle. "When you are old enough, I will have a beer with you whenever you want. Until then … drink up, kiddo."

McKay scowled at him and defiantly pushed the soda aside. John just shrugged and took a swig of his beer. At least it was there if he got thirsty.

"You were saying, Rodney?" Teyla prompted, ending the stand-off.

"Yeah, so Professor Finley was saying how brilliant the work as, then he thanks _Dennis_ for sharing his work. I couldn't believe it! It was _my_ work!"

"Did you tell anyone?" Ronon asked, setting aside his empty bottle.

"I tried," Rodney mumbled. "Professor Finley said I 'must be mistaken' or maybe we 'inspired each other' or something like that. But I know that was _my_ work."

"You don't have to convince us," John assured him. "We believe you."

"You do?" Rodney's face lit up like a Christmas tree.

"Is that so hard to believe?" Ronon questioned, taking his last bite of food.

Rodney looked away, absentmindedly taking a drink of his soda. Most of the stories of his youth were about people not believing him, so maybe it was pretty rare to have not one but three people taking him at his word. The thought of it made John realize how few people had been believing in McKay lately. He may not be right all the time, and certainly wasn't right on Doranda, but it wouldn't hurt to give him a confidence boost once and a while. Sometimes that was all he needed to keep things from becoming too much to handle ... or to keep him out of memory altering machines that could kill him.

"Well," Teyla said after a moment, "it appears that we are all finished eating. What should we do now?"

"I don't know," Rodney admitted. "I don't usually hang out with people."

"Come on," John urged, standing up. "We'll go find something to do."

As they stepped outside, the sights and sounds of the city faded away and John felt a strange feeling sweep over him ...

* * *

So, what did you think of the first step down memory lane?

Feedback is always welcome and I will be sure to post the next chapter in 12-24 hours.


	3. Chapter 3

Good evening!

I'm going to keep this short because I just learned a painful lesson: it is possible to break skin when you slam your finger in a doorway. So, as I am down one digit and typing is awkward, I'll just let you get to the chapter.

_NOTE: This chapter is a little more intense in the bullying category. Sorry if that bothers you, but just remember that Rodney's team is not going to let anyone hurt him._

This chapter is dedicated to San Antonio Rose and jennytork who were instrumental in plotting this memory out.

Big thanks to dlldarkwolf for her beta skills.

Enjoy ...

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**Chapter 3**

John found himself standing in the bleachers of a high school football arena. This he would know anywhere, even empty with no lights on. There were however, torches - actual torches - being held by a crowd of people on the field. Based on size and dress, he would hazard a guess that a good number of those present were players and the girls were likely cheerleaders. A bad feeling settled in his stomach. They had had enough talks about sports that Rodney would have mentioned a connection to his high school team. There was no good reason why he would be at a midnight rally. No _good_ reason at all.

"Welcome, fellow bears!" an older teen in an elaborate headdress shouted from a crate beside the goalpost. "Tomorrow we face our enemy, the Eagles!"

The crowd began to hiss and boo, but John's eyes were scanning for whoever didn't belong. Chances are Rodney was the one person who did not want to be here.

"John," Teyla whispered, "what sort of ritual is this? Do they mean to hurt Rodney? Is he among Eagles?"

"Not sure. This is high school football, probably an unsanctioned team building exercise," he explained, adding sarcasm at the end. "I never took part in any, but I know people who did. Most were pretty harmless but some got out of hand."

"If this is one of McKay's worst memories, we should probably get down there," Ronon advised. "We wouldn't be here if it was harmless."

John nodded and the three made their way down to the field. He could still hear the ringleader spouting off typical tough talk, slamming their "enemy" and building up his fellow players. The Colonel ignored most of it, until one shout got his attention.  
"Bring out the sacrifice!"

Now, he understood that these were just kids talking a tough game, but there was nothing about that statement that said it was a harmless prank. Still, he did tell Ronon to put his gun away. Even in a simulated memory, even if the thing was set to stun, he wasn't going to authorize him shooting a bunch of unarmed kids.

"It's called hazing," he whispered. "They aren't going to kill anyone. No weapons."

"John, look!" Teyla cried, nearly drowned out by the cheers and jeers of the crowd.

A few players had entered the field carrying a squirming boy on their shoulders. The figure was small and skinny, dressed only in a pair of boxers, with his hands behind his back and a large foam eagle head covering him from the shoulders up. Even though he couldn't see his face, there was no doubt who that kid was.

"Rodney," he muttered under his breath.

He didn't even try to stop Ronon as the Satedan surged forward, shoving his way through the crowd of kids with John and Teyla close behind. While he logically knew that they weren't likely to cause Rodney any serious injury, there was nothing harmless about this situation.

"Hey, what are you doing?" the ringleader yelled, looking over the crowd at them. "You can't be here! This is private property."

"Oh, you wanna talk about authorization?" John challenged. "Why don't we call the cops and let them sort this out?"

That shut the kid up. But he soon found his voice again when he saw Ronon grab McKay from the players holding him and head toward the nearest exit.

"You can't take him!" the kid yelled, jumping from his crate. "That's kidnapping!"

"So call the cops," John repeated, allowing his anger to seep into his voice. "I'm sure they would love to hear how he got out here in the first place."

He stammered, but had nothing else to say. The whole crowd was silent, looking at each other for direction. Knowing they weren't going to cause anymore trouble, John turned to follow his team. On his way out, he caught sight of a tarp at the base of the goal post. Beside the crate was a partially used roll of duct tape and a bucket of what looked like small water balloons filled with red paint. Maybe this was why Rodney disliked football so much.

"John," Teyla said softly when he reached the exit. "Rodney doesn't know where they put his clothes."

Looking over her shoulder, he saw the boy sitting on the trunk of a car in the parking lot. Or at least he saw a small head sticking out of Ronon's jacket that covered him as completely as a blanket. He looked terrified, and John didn't blame him one bit. For all Rodney knew, he was getting kidnapped for the second time in one night. Letting out a sigh, John turned back and walked right up to the ringleader.

"What did you do with his stuff?"

The boy looked at his friends, but none of them were making eye contact. One of these kids knew something, but none of them were stepping up. John crossed his arms, silently letting them know he wasn't leaving without Rodney's property. He was just about to start counting when one of the players who helped carry the kid in sighed.

"They're in my car," he muttered.

"Show me," John ordered, marching the teen to the parking lot.

Ronon moved in front of Rodney as they went by, shielding him from his tormentor while giving the kid the darkest warning glare ever. Once again, John wished this was real. Anyone who saw that look would be scared straight in a heartbeat.

"T-They're … uh … they're in here," the player stammered, unable to look away from the Satedan.

He fumbled with his keys for a moment before John took over. In the trunk he found what looked like Rodney's clothes, shoes, backpack, a couple of books on space, and a telescope. They must have grabbed him while stargazing.

"All of this McKay's?" he asked, pulling out the clothes and shoes.

"Yeah," the kid admitted, finally able to turn his gaze to the ground. "We were gonna give it back, I swear!"

John made a small noise, just enough to show his skepticism, as he emptied the trunk. Honestly though, it didn't matter how nice they planned to be after their rally, the damage would already have been done - had already been done. This was just an altered memory. No one was there to stop it the first time.

"Go home kid," John instructed, closing the lid.

He would have thrown in a few words about choices and consequences, and more than a few words about staying far away from Rodney McKay, but what was the point? He wasn't here to set a bully on the straight and narrow, he was here for Rodney.

"Here you go," John said softly, offering his young friend his clothes.

Even though they had all already seen him in his boxers, the teen kept the over-sized coat around his small frame as he pulled on his pants. Once his shirt was on, he silently gave it back and sat back on the car to put on his socks and shoes. Now that he was as covered as he could be, he looked around at the team.

"Um … thanks … I just have one question-"

"Who are we?" John guessed.

"Make that two questions."

"What's the other one?" Teyla asked, her voice gentle.

"Um … you aren't going to tell my dad about this, are you?"

"Not if you don't want us to," John replied.

"Good," he said with a sigh of relief, sliding off the car so he could check his books and telescope for damage. "So, what were you doing in the football field at 11:00 at night?"

"We're fellow stargazers," John claimed, hoping his smile was convincing. "We saw you in trouble and, well, people like us have to stick together."

Based on the look he got in return, Rodney was nowhere near convinced. So young, yet so skeptical. John could help but wonder if the guy was born a cynic.

"Who are you really?" he asked, moving onto his backpack.

"Who do you think we are?" Ronon countered.

"You two look like security guards," Rodney said, pointing to John and Teyla. "My guess is the school heard that the team had plans and sent someone in to stop it. As for you … well … I have no idea, but you look kinda like a viking."

"Right on all accounts," John said with a smile, clapping Ronon on the shoulder. "Come on Bjorn, let's find somewhere warmer than this parking lot."

A 24-hour diner was close by and this time Rodney didn't complain a bit about the root beer or slice of pie that John got for him while the rest of them drank coffee. Teyla asked him about his stargazing and they spent at least an hour listening to him describe his work and how important it was to keep track of things like that.

"Think about it, any star you see could be a sun, and those suns could have multiple planets. Now, if we say that one ten has planets, and one in five of those has one capable of supporting life then the odds that there is life out there are … well, I haven't done all the calculations yet, but I bet if we could go far enough from our galaxy we'll find civilization out there."

Now there's the astrophysicist they know and love. The kid had no idea that in a little over twenty years he would be visiting the places he could only barely see with his telescope. John thought about telling him as much, but there was no way he would believe him. For now, he was just enjoying hearing his friend laugh, seeing him smile, eat a second slice of pie … This is the childhood he should have had.

"So," Rodney started, trying to get every drop of pie filling off his spoon, "you aren't really a Viking, are you Bjorn?"

"I'm not even a Bjorn."

"I figured," the kid said with a smug grin. "The Viking age ended around 1066 and you don't look that old."

He always did love to be right. However, the grin was interrupted by a yawn and John realized how late it was for his young friend. The guy might be able to frequently go without sleep at close to 40, but not so much at 14. Signally the waitress that they were finished, he broke the news to their teenage companion.

"No," Rodney whined. "I'm not that tired. Can't we stay a little longer? I like hanging out with you guys."

"We like spending time with you too," Teyla assured him with a smile, "but it is very late."

"Well … can we do this again?"

"Anytime," Ronon promised, rising to his feet. "Let's get you home."

They headed outside and once again everything faded away as a now familiar feeling swept John away ...

* * *

So, what did you think of this stop on Memory Lane?

Feedback is always welcome and I wil get the next chapter up in 12-24 hours.


	4. Chapter 4

Good morning!

You might recognize the subject matter of this one as it was inspired by dialogue from Miller's Crossing, my take on what might have cause Rodney to get lost in that mall. I hope you like it.

Once again, this chapter is dedicated to the guest reviewer(s) and cassiope25 for their kind words and encouragement as I venture into a new fandom.

Credit is due to dlldarkwolf for her beta skills.

Enjoy ...

* * *

**Chapter 4**

No sooner had the world come back into focus than John was shoved hard from behind. He stumbled forward and ran into a little old lady. There was no other way to describe her. The woman had to be at least 80 and barely came up to his chest. It was all he could do not to knock her over. In response to his lack of balance, the woman swung out her giant bag - how she could lift it, he had no idea - and slammed it into his stomach. Temporarily winded, John was only vaguely aware of strong arms pulling him upright and Teyla's soothing apology.

"You okay, Sheppard?" Ronon asked, keeping him from doubling over.

"Let's find Rodney," he grunted, rubbing what had to be an impressive bruise forming under his shirt. "I just remembered why I don't like malls."

And a mall is exactly where they found themselves. A big one by the look of it, made even more busy by the time of year. Trees and garland surrounded the crowd of shoppers and the tune of "Jingle Bells" mixed into the roar of voices. If Rodney was stuck in this, it was no wonder he developed claustrophobia.

"Do you see him?" John asked, scanning the sea of faces.

Of course, it would be more helpful if they knew what age to look for. Last they had seen him, he was around 14. Didn't exactly narrow it down. He could start calling his name, but that would probably result in nothing but a sore throat to go with his sore stomach. Even if the kid could hear him over all these people, he would have no reason to answer a bunch of strangers or even think they were looking for him. On top of that, they didn't know if he went by the name Rodney yet. Nope, they were just going to have to find him the old fashioned way.

"Okay," John sighed, leading out of the main path to avoid anymore run-ins with holiday shoppers. "Ronon, you take the left, Teyla you go right, I'll look around here. Maintain visual contact and if you see him-"

"John," Teyla interrupted, pointing toward the ground.

The toes of a pair of sneakers were just visible, peeking out from behind some decorations. Craning his neck, the colonel looked down into a gap made by the display to see Rodney, just slightly younger than the last time they saw him, wiping his eyes.

"Are you okay, buddy?" he asked.

"I'm not crying!" the boy snapped.

"I didn't say you were," John continued, his voice light. "I just wanted to know if you needed help."

The boy paused, then quickly finished drying his face. Ever so cautiously, he stepped out from behind the cheerful display. His eyes were red and his expression miserable, but it was the slight tremble to his hands that had John really worried.

"Do you know where the food court is?"

His voice shook a little and John shared a look with his teammates. Hypoglycemia. He didn't know or care how this played out the first time around, but he was not going to let his friend go without eating one second longer than he had to. Spotting a map, he gestured with his head.

"Why don't we find it together?"

"I tried that," Rodney grumbled. "Those dumb things are misleading."

"Let's check anyway."

Putting a protective arm around the boy's shoulders, he steered him over to the map. No wonder the kid was lost; they were in the West Edmonton Mall. That place was huge from the day it opened, and that was before they added the water park. Luckily, they were not far from the food court and five minutes later the team sat down to a feast of hot dogs and giant pretzels.

"I told my dad I was hungry," Rodney complained, squirting a line of mustard on his hot dog with a shaky hand. "He thought that one dumb granola bar would be enough."

"I take it that it wasn't?" John guessed, taking the mustard when his friend was done with it.

"I never got to find out," the boy grumbled, taking a big bite and continuing with his mouth full, "a stupid lady made me drop it."

Apparently John had not been the only one who had trouble with crowds knocking into him. Rodney had barely got his snack out of the wrapper before a shopping bag sent it flying. A second later, someone stepped on it.

"Of course, Dad didn't believe me. He never believes me," Rodney went on bitterly. "He thought I was just trying to get more food! I mean, I was … but that's not the point."

"So your father said he wouldn't buy you any food," Teyla asked.

"Well … He said we could get lunch after he got his new suit, but you have no idea how long that takes."

John had an idea. He remembered a time his dad took him and his brother to get suits for a cousins wedding. Three hours of browsing, fitting, adjustmenting, color matching … he really felt for the kid. At least now he wasn't hungry anymore. In fact, what had been a sort of feeding frenzy had slowed dramatically as his expression became suspicious.

"Not that I'm not grateful or anything," he said, tearing off a piece of giant pretzel, "but … why are you helping me?"

And they were back to that. John shared a look with his teammates to see if they had any ideas on how to explain their interest this time. The 'we want to be your friends' story wouldn't work, as three grown ups didn't generally try to befriend random children at the mall. Maybe their high school cover would work.

"We're Mall Security," John stated, hoping his uniform would help sell it.

"He doesn't look like a security guard," Rodney pointed out, tilting his soda in Ronon's direction.

"Yeah," John looked at the Satedan. "He's Mall Hospitality."

The look of pure skepticism he got in return was so much like the adult scientist that John fought hard not to laugh. Adding to that the expressions from the rest of the table and it was all he could do to keep a straight face. Scratch that, there was no way to keep a straight face. Best to just roll with it.

"Really, it's his job to make sure all the mall patrons are fed."

"Uh-huh," Rodney mumbled around a mouthful of hot dog. "Whatever you say."

There was no way he believed him, but he wasn't arguing - or worse calling the actual security guards. The finished off their first round of food and bought a few more pretzels for the road. No need for the kid to be caught without a snack again. Once that was done, they set out to find where Rodney left his family.

"You said your dad was getting a suit," John said, scanning the map. "Do you remember the name of the shop?"

"No, but it had a lot of suits," the boy replied, looking over the map with him.

It took a few tries, but they finally found the right place. Rodney identified his dad as the man standing in front of the three way mirror and a young Jeanie sitting on the floor braiding ties together. However, locating his family seemed to make his mood worse.

"They didn't even notice I left," he said sadly.

Teyla wrapped her arm around his slumped shoulders, but that did little to cheer him up. So much for making this a happy memory. Maybe there was still a way. John knelt down to look his young friend in the eye.

"You know, you don't have to go back in yet," he pointed out. "You found them, but why not hang out here a while longer? You can always join them when they get ready to leave."

"I guess I could," Rodney agreed. "Will you stay with me?"

"As long as you need," Ronon said.

So they sat on a half wall outside the shop with their pretzels, talking about the last few years of movies. They had reached Raiders of the Lost Ark and were debating about who would win in a fight, Indiana Jones or Han Solo, when Jeanie started calling for her brother.

"I guess they noticed you left," John commented, popping the last of his food in his mouth.

"Yeah, I guess," Rodney sighed, crumpling up his paper wrapper. "Can't we just go get another pretzel? It's not like my dad will care if I'm there anyway."

"Your sister might care," Teyla pointing out, motioning to the little girl anxiously searching through coat racks. "You wouldn't want her to worry, would you?"

"No," he admitted. "I guess I should go. Thanks for … well, you know."

Once again his shoulders slumped and John wondered if there was anything else he could do to make this memory better. Thinking back to the last couple, he got an idea.

"This doesn't have to be a one time thing," the Colonel stated, getting the boy's attention.

"You mean, you would want to hang out again?" Rodney asked with an odd mixture of hope and skepticism.

"Anytime you want," Ronon promised.

"I don't live here."

"Neither do we," John told him. "But I have a feeling we'll find each other again. Besides, we haven't figured out who would win the fight."

"True," the boy said, clearly fighting a smile. "Okay, but next time we should watch the movies so we can better compare them."

"I'll bring the pretzels," John pledged. "Now we better get going. Your sister is waiting."

Slinging an arm around his slender shoulders, the Colonel led Rodney into the store. As he crossed the threshold that feeling swept over him ...

* * *

What do you think?

I look forward to your feedback and should have the next part up in 12-24 hours.


	5. Chapter 5

Good evening.

So, this was actually not in the original line up of chapters, but the thought came to me and I quickly wrote it up and slipped it in. I hope you don't mind. ;)

This chapter is dedicated to cassiope25 who requested "plenty" of chapters, which I took as a request to add more.

A special thanks to my beta, monkeymuse, for filling in when my usual betas were busy.

Enjoy ...

* * *

**Chapter 5**

John looked around at the park where he and his team had appeared. It was a nice sunny day. People were riding by on bicycles, children were playing on a nearby playground, dogs were chasing balls in the long stretches of grass. Kinda a weird place for someone's worst memory. Then again, if there was one thing he learned working in the Pegasus Galaxy, looks can be very deceiving.

"Do you see Rodney?" Teyla asked, her eyes sweeping over the playground.

"Not yet," John admitted.

"There," Ronon announced.

The Colonel turned to see where his teammate was pointing and saw a lone child carrying a large box kite down a path that curved out of sight. Even from a distance, he caught a glimpse of excitement in his blue eyes right before he disappeared. If that was McKay, John had a bad feeling he was in for a big let down.

"Kevin! Bruce!" they heard him shout. "Check this out!"

John jogged down the path, but it seemed the kid had veered off at some point. He could still hear him rattling off the design features of his kite, which gave him a direction, but the dense trees would not yield a line of sight.

"Why would we care about your stupid kite, Meredith?" a new voice asked.

Rodney's voice got quieter, so John couldn't make out his response. However, the laughter that followed was loud and clear. He sped up, not wanting a childhood version of the bar incident.

"You think because we asked you to be our science partner that we're your friends?" a second voice chuckled. "I thought you were supposed to be smart."

"Project's over," the first kid added. "Thanks for the A, now get lost."

Once again John couldn't make out his friend's answer, but he didn't need to. In his mind, he could see the hurt look in those blue eyes and the defeated slump of his shoulders. It was the same reaction as when the Colonel told him it would take a long time to get back what they had. Only difference was, as mad as he'd been that day, he all but told them they would be okay. At the time he wasn't entirely sure they would be, but he didn't want to lose their friendship anymore than Rodney did.

"Give it back!"

Now that response he head. Finally making it through the trees, he saw the two punks trying to start a game of keep away with Rodney's kite. When John heard one of the wooden rods snap, so did he.

"Hey!"

All three boys froze as the Colonel approached. While the bigger two looked like they had been caught with their hand in the cookie jar, they quickly got over it and slipped back into a tough guy act. John had seen their type before, from elementary to basic training. Some people just had to defy authority no matter who it was.

"Give him back his stuff and get lost," he ordered.

"Give me one good reason why I should listen to you," the one holding the kite challenged.

John was wondering how far he could go in a simulated memory to teach these bullies a lesson, when a shadow moved up to his six.

"Leave."

Looking a bit like the punk in the bar, the kid shoved the kite into Rodney's hands and took off across the park, his friend right behind him.

"You sure have a way with words, Chewie," John commented, turning to McKay. "You okay, buddy?"

"Yes, sir," he mumbled, clearly not. "Um … thanks."

The boy turned to leave, but John called him back. One of the problems with being intimidating is that you sometimes scared more people than you intended. Rodney stared up at him - or rather Ronon - with wide eyes, practically trembling as he visibly fought his instinct to run for cover. Luckily, Teyla was there and was able to reassure the little guy that they were not dangerous - or at least not dangerous to him.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked, getting his focus away from the Satedan. "They didn't hurt you?"

"No," he shook his head, looking down at his broken toy. "I'm fine."

Rodney never was a good liar. Physically he might be fine, but the truth was he like that kite. If they wanted to fix the memory, they were going to have to find a way to mend what those jerks broke. Maybe that was the answer.

"That's a nice one you have there," John said, keeping his tone as friendly as possible.

"It was," Rodney muttered bitterly.

"Can I see it?" the Colonel continued, holding out his hand.

With a sigh, the kid handed it over. John hadn't been lying, other than the one snapped support, it was a very nice kite. The design was one of precision, the blue fabric cut and applied with obvious care. A bit too much care for it to be mass produced.

"Did you make this?" he questioned.

"Yeah," Rodney said with a nod. "I just finished a report on the history of flight, and the first airplane was essentially a box kite with a cockpit, so … yeah."

"It really is good," John repeated. "I can't wait to see it in the air."

"It's not going in the air. It's broken."

"Broken doesn't mean destroyed," Ronon chimed in.

"Exactly," John said with a smile. "We just need a stick and this will be good as new."

"It needs more than a stick," Rodney argued with an eye roll, his voice getting stronger.

Cue the lecture on the importance of size, weight, and material. Normally the Colonel would cut him off with enough information to remind him that he understood the calculations without the physics lesson, but this was a special case. Rodney needed his confidence back and what was a little instruction between friends?

A quick trip to a nearby store got them everything they needed and the team spent the next hour or so sitting around a picnic table getting a tutorial on kite construction. Munching on popcorn from a local vendor, Rodney gave John the steps while he carefully removed the damaged section and replaced it with a new support dowel.

"There," he said, holding up the whole kite. "I told you the bar from the hanger would work."

"We'll see," Rodney said with an eye roll. "The weight might be off."

"Why don't we try it out," Teyla suggested.

"We have to wait until the glue dries," the boy responded, finishing off the popcorn. "It may be superglue, but it still takes time. There is no such thing as an instant fix."

Wasn't _that_ the truth? Everything took time, from broken kites to crushed spirits. John may not have been able to glue his friend back together, now or after Doranda, but time would help.

"I think it's ready," he announced after a minute. "Care to test it out?"

"Are you sure?" Rodney asked, gently testing the support. "What if it goes up and falls apart?"

"That is a risk," John admitted, "but if it does, we'll be here to help put it back together."

The boy smiled and picked up the kite, asking if they could get more popcorn after the test flight. They agreed and helped him get the toy into the air. It struggled and dipped, but soon picked up enough wind to rise over the treetops.

"It's working!" Rodney cheered. "Look! It's okay!"

"Yeah," John whispered. "I think we are."

He smiled at the happy expression on the boy's face, focusing on that as the rest of the world faded and that feeling came over him ...

* * *

What do you think?

s usual, comments are appreciated and I will post the next chapter in 12-24 hours.


	6. Chapter 6

Good afternoon!

I meant to have this up earlier, but my baby needed mommy time. (BTW, this is why I give a time range for posting: in case life gets in the way) This is another chapter that references dialogue in the show ("McKay and Mrs. Miller") and my take on how it played out.

This chapter is dedicated to my newest reviewer, Yutowu, for their kind words.

Big thanks to my beta, dlldarkworf, for taking the tome to help me get this ready.

Enjoy ...

* * *

**Chapter 6**

John stepped through a doorway and into an empty hallway. The lines of lockers and generic team spirit signs let him know he was in a school, but which one? A poster for the 7th grade dance answered that question. Now for the major one: where was Rodney?

"What is this place?" Teyla asked, looking around.

"It's a school," John answered absentmindedly. "Maybe Rodney is in one of the classrooms-"

"Hurry it up, Meredith, if you want a chance to eat before the bell!"

Or he could be over there. Turning in that direction, John discovered that the mocking voice came from the bathroom and he got another bad feeling. Pranks that required a bathroom were often the most humiliating. Instructing Teyla to watch the door for him, the Colonel stepped inside, one step in front of Ronon. They were just in time to see a child - who looked too young for middle school - coming out of a stall and handing the largest of three boys a pair of underwear.

"Here's your toll, you neanderthal. Now can I have my lunch back?"

Obviously he had dealt with this particular trio before to have shifted from fearful and intimidated to loudly annoyed and slightly intimidated. But, if this followed the same track as the last few memories, things were going to get worse for the little guy. A lot worse.

"Not yet, you have to do one more thing," the obvious leader snickered, holding up the boy's briefs. "Today this will be your crown as king of the nerds."

"What?!" Rodney practically squeaked, much to their amusement. "I'm not gonna-"

"You will, _if_ you want your lunch back."

"I don't think so," John cut in.

All four boys, who had been too busy to notice their entrance, practically jumped at the sound of his voice. The one holding the underwear shoved it into Rodney's hands and took a big step back, as if that would clear him of all guilt. Valiant effort, but too little too late.

"Who are you?" one of the bullies asked.

"We're … his bodyguards," John replied.

"What?" the ring leader asked, at the same time Rodney said, "really?"

"It's true," the colonel continued. "There are some pretty important people interested in his mind and asked us to protect him so that he can run their science and research department."

"_Him_?!" the third bully gaped. "But … he's only _10_!"

"Well, he has to finish school first," John shrugged. "Doesn't mean we don't want him."

"I don't believe you," the head punk sneered, apparently over the initial shock of their sudden appearance. "Who recruits a 7th grader?"

John shared a look with Ronon. They'd come this far, why not go all the way? It's not like this was real for anyone but Rodney. So, he told the truth.

"We work for an international oversight committee who is heavily invested in his future. We have been tasked with keeping him in one piece, physically and emotionally, so that he is able to work at his full potential."

"And anyone who threatens that answers to me," Ronon added, towering over the boys. "Got that?"

The boys had no words, but the two back-up goons both shifted uncomfortably as their pants were suddenly wet. Rodney giggled, but stopped when the head jerk turned his glare on him. He managed half a step towards McKay before, in a flash of leather, he was staring at Ronon's belt. His eyes slowly raised to the Satedan's menacing expression. Once their eyes locked, Rodney was the only kid in the room with dry pants.

"If I were you, I'd get out of here before he really gets mad," John suggested.

The boys didn't need to be told twice as they all raced for the exit. Once they were gone, John did a quick visual assessment of Rodney. Not a mark on him, but he was still holding his underwear. At least no one else had to see him with it - this time around.

"You might want to put those back on," John advised quietly.

"What?" he asked, looking down at his hand. "Oh … yeah. I brought these from home and had them in my backpack. It's, uh, not the first time they've done this."

John nodded in sympathy and retrieved his backpack out of the stall. If only he could promise that it wasn't going to happen again. At least they could turn this memory around.

"Darn it," Rodney muttered, looking through his stuff.

"What?" Ronon asked.

"Oh, those jerks ran off with my lunch. Now what am I gonna do? I'm hypoglycemic. If I don't eat I get sick, I mean _really_ sick. I'll have to go to the nurse and she will call my dad, then he'll have to come down and bring me a new lunch - assuming he's not working and answers the phone. What am I saying, I'm gonna starve!"

No matter the age, Rodney was still Rodney.

"You won't starve," John assured him, trying hard to hide his grin at how McKay-like the kid was acting.

"Oh really?" the boy said, giving him the patented eye roll. "Am I to assume you have a ham sandwich in one of those vest pockets?"

"No, but I have something better. You like pizza, right?"

Twenty minutes later the kid was stuffing himself with pepperoni, garlic bread, and soda. John watched him with a mixture of amazement and amusement as he sipped his coke. For a little guy, he could sure pack away the slices.

"You're gonna get fat," Ronon commented, when he grabbed his fourth slice.

"Are you my bodyguard or my personal trainer?"

"Actually, he's kinda both," John answered, making Rodney choke on his pizza.

"They are just teasing you," Teyla assured him. "Have as much as you want."

She shot John a warning look, silently reminding him what they were doing there. He just shrugged and popped a slice of pepperoni in his mouth. Rodney was fine, the team was together, and that was all that mattered.

"Do I get my own office?"

"What?" John asked, taking another sip of coke.

"At the - what did you call it - oversight committee, do I get my own office?"

"No, you get your own lab," John answered, loving the way his little face lit up. "Of course, it's separate from the main lab where your minions work."

"I get minions?! This is the greatest day of my life!"

The Colonel laughed along with his team, while Rodney celebrated his future success with a refill of soda and a fifth slice of pizza. He asked more questions between bites. These were mostly relating to the size of his lab, team, and - since he obviously was going to work with Americans - whether or not they could get him on Skylab. That last one was hard for John to answer as he first had to remember what that space station was and why he had forgotten. Skylab crashed back to Earth in 1979, and they were having lunch in 1978. Rather than tell him the fate of his dream destination, John decided to tell him all about the puddle jumpers - real spaceships that he could ride in and work on ...

"You'll even get to fly them," he promised the wide-eyed boy.

"Can I fly it all the way to Skylab?"

So much for distraction.

"It looks like we're done here," John announced.

"But … but I'm still hungry," Rodney pouted, looking at his empty plate. "Can't we get another one?"

While he had serious doubts as to how hungry the kid could actually be after downing half a pizza, John promised he would get him another one later and ushered him to the door. His intention was to escort him back to school, but no sooner had he crossed the room that the pizza parlor started to fade and that familiar feeling came over him ...

* * *

So, what do you think of the latest step down Memory Lane?

Comments are always appreciated and I will get the next one up in the next 12-24 hours.


	7. Chapter 7

Good evening ... late evening.

I'm going to make this brief as I am very tired. This was another chapter not in the original line up but added to meet the "plenty" quota. It is also based on a conversation between Ronon and Rodney during "Tracker".

This chapter is dedicated to Chgrgal who asked to get a glimpse of the team's bad memories. (There is something in here for you.)

A big thanks to this chapter's beta, Angelic Jedi98, for her help in preparing it for publication.

Enjoy ...

* * *

**Chapter 7**

The first thing John saw was a lake shimmering in the sunlight. Several canoes leaned against a wooden frame near a boathouse, several small sizes of life jackets filled steel barrels, and a large wooden sign with colorful letters served as a reminder not to enter the water without a buddy. He didn't remember Rodney ever mentioning summer camp ...

"You think he's in the water?" Ronon asked, joining him at the lake's edge.

"Not without a lifeguard," John answered, jerking his thumb to the empty chair high above the beach. "But he's gotta be somewhere close by."

With no other choice, they picked a direction. After a few minutes they came across a baseball diamond where a group of boys were playing kickball. It was not much of a surprise that Rodney was not among them. So where was he?

The sound of an explosion made John's heart skip a beat.

The whole time he ran toward the source of the noise, he kept telling himself this was a memory. Whatever happened, Rodney had not only survived but been well enough to remember it. He clung to that thought as the came in sight of the boathouse, half collapsed and burning.

"What were you _thinking_, Meredith?!" a voice screamed. "Just _look_ what you did!"

Turning his attention from the destruction, John saw his friend - no older than nine - standing in front of a guy in a scoutmaster's uniform. The man's face was almost as red as the bandana tied around his neck, and Rodney seemed to shrink with every word.

"Why can't you just follow instructions for once? At least if you are part of the activity we have a chance to control things. This … you are chaos in sneakers!"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Webster," the boy sniffed, eyes locked on the ground. "I didn't mean to blow it up."

"Well that doesn't change anything does it? You realize your parents will be charged for this damage? What do you think they'll say about this?"

"I'll do better next time."

"There will be no next time," the man said severely. "You are a disgrace to the Eager Beavers. You will leave as soon as your parents can get here to pick you up. I suggest you pack."

By now the boy was unable to hide his tears and John had seen more than enough. Of course, this time the bully was big enough to punch. However, before he could take a step toward the scoutmaster, he was cut off.

"Excuse me," Teyla said, her voice calm but with a slight edge. "You do realize you are talking to a child?"

"Do you see what he did?" the man shot back, gesturing to the ruins of the boathouse.

"Do you see he is a **child**?" she countered, the edge in her voice getting sharper.

Knowing that she was about to cut him smaller than he made Rodney feel, John slipped around the angry Athosian and snagged the little guy's hand. He guided him away from the burning boathouse and further down the lake, the sound of Teyla's voice carrying over the water.

"Trust me, kiddo, it's better if we clear out before things get really ugly," he told his young friend.

Rodney didn't argue or fight him on it. The level of defeat on his face and in his body language was concerning. It wasn't even this bad after Doranda, and taking out a solar systems was a little bit more serious than blowing up half a boathouse.

"You okay?" Ronon asked.

"I'm not an Eager Beaver anymore," he lamented. "After this, no one will ever want me to be part of their group again."

So that's what it was. It wasn't the mistake or even the scolding; it was the rejection that hurt the most. Had he felt that after Doranda? Guilt gnawed at John as he remembered his words to McKay when he had come seeking forgiveness. It was probably his own actions that push the guy to a point where he thought changing his memories was the only option left, and it was up to him to fix it.

"You'll find your team," John promised, giving the kid's shoulder a comforting squeeze. "You just need to meet the right people."

"But who would want chaos in sneakers?"

"I would," Ronon said with a small smile.

"As would I," Teyla added, joining them at the side of the lake.

"Chaos isn't always a bad thing," John stated, "it keeps life from getting too boring."

Their words brightened Rodney's overcast expression, but the sounds of more yelling - probably from the park staff - threatened to bring the storm clouds back. Words like 'reackless' and 'stupid' were tossed around, hitting the kid like blows. They needed to get Rodney somewhere safe and far away from raised voices.

"You hungry?" John asked, falling back on a tried and true method of distraction. "Let's have a picnic."

Since it was between meals, all they managed to get out of the kitchen staff was a couple of small sacks of granola and a handful of juice boxes. Finding a remote edge of the lake, the team settled in for their makeshift picnic.

"Sorry about your boathouse," Rodney blurted out after several minutes of silence.

"What?" John questioned.

"Aren't you with the camp?"

That was as good a cover as any. Why not roll with it?

"Oh, yeah, that old boathouse," the Colonel sighed. "Pretty sure it needed to be replaced anyway."

"The important thing is that you were not hurt," Teyla said with a gentle smile.

This was more true than the kid knew. His adult self couldn't take any more injuries; the strain of what he was going through was more than enough. Of course, John was dying to ask what had happened, but didn't want to risk upsetting the little guy.

"So, how did you blow up the boathouse?"

Ronon on the other hand was not known for tact and sensitivity.

"I wasn't trying to blow it up, it just happened!" Rodney protested. "Maybe my mixture was off a little, but I bet that _next time_ I'll get it right."

Okay, that brought up more questions than answers. On the bright side, he didn't seem as upset as he was before. So maybe it would be okay for John to ask …

"What were you making?"

"A rocket."

That figures.

"It would have been fine if I had been able to get the fuel mixture right," Rodney repeated. "I didn't have these problems with the warhead."

John had been aware of that one, but would have thought that a visit from the CIA would have put an end to his more explosive research. Then again, he never was one to back down easily. It was his greatest strength - and, at times, his greatest flaw. It's also what made keeping him in one piece a full time job.

"Maybe you should ease up on propulsion experiments for a while," John suggested.

"Maybe," Rodney conceded, "at least until I have a better space to work with. This camp hadn't updated their science equipment since Einstein took the Nobel Prize."

"Was that a long time ago?" Teyla asked, picking through the granola and selecting a nut.

"Is she serious?" the boy questioned, looking to John.

"She's not from around here," he said with a shrug.

"Where's she from, _Mars_?"

John just smiled and stuffed another handful of granola in his mouth. The little guy wouldn't believe the truth even if he told him. No matter, he had moved on in the conversation by the time the Colonel had washed down his snack with the last of his juice box.

"You just watch," Rodney vowed. "Next time, I'll get it right and that'll show them."

"Show them what?" Ronon asked, scooping the last of the granola up in his hand.

"You know," the boy said, dropping his gaze and with his voice. "That I'm not a total loser."

"You are _not_ a loser," John stated firmly.

"What else do you call a guy who gets kicked out of a scout troop?"

"Me."

Silence fell on the table as all eyes turned to John. It wasn't his proudest memory, but after everything that Rodney had been through today it was only fair that he shares something from his own past. No going back now.

"I was ten and Glenn O'Bannon had the most badges in our troop," he explained. "He was so smug about it, I decided to beat him at his own game. Then came the hiking badge; the last one I needed to beat his record. The jerk pushed me in poison ivy and I had to go home early."

"What did you do?" Rodney asked, leaning forward.

"Next camping trip, I put fire ants in his sleeping bag."

While the kid seemed to find this hilarious, Teyla did not approve, Neither had the scoutmaster ... his parents ..., the park ranger … In short, it was satisfying but not worth it. So _so_ satisfying, but really not worth it.

"The point is, everyone makes mistakes - and yes, the fire ant stunt _was_ a mistake - but that doesn't make you a loser."

"No, it doesn't make _you_ a loser," Rodney grumbled. "You probably had a lot of things people like about you. Science is all I have."

"You think that if you are not right all the time people won't like you?" Teyla questioned.

Rodney didn't answer, but his body language said it all. Suddenly a lot of her personality made sense. All the times he tried to take credit, all those times he gloated about having the right answer, he was trying to cement his place in the group.

"You don't have to be right for us to like you," Ronon said firmly.

"You don't even know me," the boy huffed.

"So let us," John suggested. "Just give us time. We can have another picnic."

"With granola and juice boxes?" Rodney asked, skeptically.

"Yeah … I think we can find something better to drink than juice boxes."

A voice called out and the boy winced. It seemed his mother had arrived to take him home. Sharing a look with his team, the three of them rose in unison. Rodney may not know it yet, but he was one of them and they weren't going to make him face this alone.

"Let's go, kiddo," the colonel said, slinging his arm around his slender shoulders.

Rodney smiled and stood a little straighter as they headed toward the voice. Just as his mother came into sight, John saw the world started to fade and that familiar feeling came over him ...

* * *

So, what do you think of this bad memory turned good?

Comments always welcome, I also take suggestions, and I will post again in 12-24 hours.


	8. Chapter 8

Good afternoon.

This is the last of my extra chapters and one that was actually inspired by an early scene from The Neverending Story. (My scene plays out differently, but the setting is meant to be the same.) I hope you like it.

This chapter is dedicated to my newest reviewer, Pam, for giving feedback on one my my favorite lines in the last chapter.

Special thanks to my beta, Angelic Jedi98, for helping get this ready on short notice.

Enjoy ...

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**Chapter 8**

John was aware of the sounds of the street before it came into view. Roaring engines, scolding parents, loud music … Welcome to the city. Here's hoping that this was not a memory of Rodney getting hit by a car. Looking around, he saw several kids heading down the street and what looked like a school in the distance. A newspaper stand provided the date and gave him Rodney's age.

"Okay," he called to his team, "he's seven this time, so keep an eye out."

He didn't really need to tag on that last part, but it was almost a reflex. Rodney was becoming more and more vulnerable with every memory and John didn't want to add even one bruise to the many his sleeping self already had collected.

"Stop it!" a young voice called from somewhere nearby. "Ow! Get off me!"

"Can it, twerp!" a quieter voice growled. "One more word and you'll be swimming in garbage!"

That was all John needed to hear to have him running toward the sound, Teyla right behind him and Ronon's long strides putting him in the lead. On the dirty ground of the ally was Rodney, pinned under a boy at least a year or two older than him, with two more boys digging through a backpack. Grunting as the kid tried to wiggle free, the bully urged his buddies to hurry up. One of the punks digging through the bag let ut a triumphant cry and held up a sheet of math problems, but the cry soon became a yelp as John snatched it out of his hands.

"Get off him," he ordered, although Ronon was already lifting the kid off their friend.

A second later, Teyla had Rodney on his feet and was checking the crying child for injuries while two of the boys stared up at the Colonel in fear. The third was still suspended in the air, face white with terror and for good reason. The Satedan was looking at Rodney and his expression said that, if the boy was injured, he might toss the punk into a wall.

"You can put him down, Ronon," Teyla instructed without looking up. "You have made your point."

"I haven't made mine," John stated, no longer caring that this was just a simulated memory and turning to the three boys. "If you _ever_ pull a stunt like this again, you'll have to deal with me. You got that?"

Trembling, the bullies nodded and raced off down the street. Once they were gone, he turned to Teyla and Rodney. Tear tracks ran down his small face, narrowly missing the road rash over his cheekbone. Beyond those shallow scrapes, it looked like they hadn't hurt him. Thank God.

"It's okay, kiddo," John soothed, dabbing at the cuts with his handkerchief. "They're gone now and they won't be back."

"They- They wanted my homework," Rodney sniffed. "I tried to say no … I tried … Should'a just given it to them."

"No," Ronon interjected. "If you give in, it just tells them they can do it again."

"But saying no doesn't work either!" Rodney wailed, wiping his eyes.

Teyla pulled him into a hug and looked to John, but there was no easy answer for this. To be used or abused was a choice no child should have to make, but it seemed that it was one Rodney struggled with his entire life.

"Look," John started, kneeling so they were at eye level, "a bully is only tough when they are the biggest around. I mean, you saw how quick they ran when we showed up, right?"

"Yeah," Rodney nodded.

"If someone starts treating you like that again - and I mean _ever_ again - I want you to tell at least one of us. You understand?"

"But … I don't even know you. How will I know how to find you?"

"You will. Just promise me that you will tell us, especially if they try to hurt you."

"Okay … I promise."

John nodded, fully intending to hold his adult self to it. With the kid still shaken from the encounter, the team took him across the street to a diner and ordered pancakes all around. With the first bite of his syrup soaked breakfast, Rodney finally started to relax.

"Thanks for, you know, what you did," he said after a while. "I wish you had been around last year when they made me do their homework for them. I guess they think it's easier to just steal mine and copy the answers."

"What if your answers are wrong?" Ronon asked.

"Um … I'm never wrong," Rodney replied slowly.

"Everyone is wrong sometimes," Teyla pointed out.

"No, you don't understand. I _can't_ be wrong," the kid stressed. "I'm the smartest kid in class, even smarter than some of the teachers. I am _expected_ to have the right answers If I don't … What good am I?"

For John, his question was like a blow to the gut. What good was he? He was Rodney McKay! He was the guy who debated film trivia with him and the only one around who could point out all the flaws of a flux capacitor. He was an arrogant, sarcastic, pain in the ass - but that was what made him who he was. Would that really be hindered by him being wrong once and awhile?

"Rod- Meredith," Teyla began gently. "Those who truly care about you don't do so because you are right. They care because you are you."

"I don't have anyone like that," he said glumly.

"You will," Ronon promised.

The kid nodded, but still looked skeptical. Luckily, it wasn't the 7-year-old they needed to convince. All this was playing out in the mind of a man who needed to hear these words more than anything.

"We're your friends, Buddy," John said. "Whether you are right or wrong is not going to change that."

Rodney perked up more at his words, maybe even believed them. However, simulated memory or not, it was time he headed to school. Promising that they would have breakfast with him anytime, day or night, they hurried him back to the brick building down the street. The team stuck close all the way, watching the perimeter like they were the secret service. No one challenged them, no one questioned them. But, halfway up the building's steps, their young friend stopped.

"I will see you again, right?" he asked, biting his lip. "I mean, you'll still be my friend after school?"

"You're stuck with us kiddo," John answered with a grin. "See you when you get out. We'll bring the pancakes."

The boy beamed and raced into the fading building as the Colonel was swept away by that oh so familiar feeling ...

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Any thoughts?

Comments are always welcome, but this time I will be posting the next chapter in 6-12 hours.


	9. Chapter 9

Good evening.

This memory was a lot of fun to plot out, so I hope you enjoy it.

This chapter is dedicated to all my reviewers for supporting me through this.

A big thanks to my beta, dlldarkwolf, for making this ready to post.

Enjoy ...

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**Chapter 9**

John blinked in the bright sunlight, his eyes quickly adjusting to see that they were standing outside a school. He couldn't see the name of the school, but the age of the kids in the playground made it clear they were pretty far back in Rodney's childhood. Not one of them looked older than five. So, which of the little tykes was their boy?

"Go away!"

Probably the little guy running from the bigger boys.

"Merry, Merry, Meredith!" the group chanted in a sing-song voice. "Looks like a boy, but cries like a girl."

Had those boys been 15 or so years older, John would have punched them. Since they didn't look old enough to be first graders, he was leaning more towards spankings. However, the second he took a step forward, the Colonel felt a firm hand on his arm.

"Sheppard," Ronon whispered, looking across the playground.

Turning away from the bullies, John saw a teacher watching them closely. Granted, three armed adults next to a child's playground was probably worth monitoring, but couldn't they also see that one of their students was being tormented? Knowing that the lady would stop them from helping Rodney if they just tried to hop the fence, John gave the woman a smile and started to casually walk along the perimeter of the school. If they just happened to be going in the same direction the bullies chased Rodney, then all the better.

"Go away!" their tiny friend screamed again, causing them to quicken their pace. "Leave me alone!"

The little guy was now in the corner of the fence, surrounded by the taunting crowd who continued to sing their cruel song. Seriously, John wished he had a paddle for these pint-sized punks. However, their teasing had driven them close to the gate and the Colonel had an idea of just how he could turn the tables on Rodney's tiny tormentors. Instructing his team to follow his lead, he jogged to the corner of the fence and squatted down.

"Are you Meredith Rodney McKay?" he asked in an urgent whisper.

The group of boys froze in stunned silence as his little friend turned wide, tear-filled eyes his way.

"Yes," he muttered, wiping his face with his sleeve. "Who are you?"

"Lt. Colonel John Sheppard of the United States Air Force. The Prime Minister said I could find you here."

"Me?" Rodney squeaked, looking as shocked as the bullies. "I don't know the Prime Minister."

"Well, he knows about you, so do a lot of people," John said, trying hard to remain serious. "The President needs your help."

"The one in _America_?"

"Yes, Mr. McKay. He needs your help. Thousands of people are depending on you. Can you help us?"

While that little guy puffed out his chest, all tears forgotten, as he promised to help the President any way he could. John told him to go and join his partners. The crowd parted to let Rodney run past them to where Ronon and Teyla opened the gate. Just for his own peace of mind, and because he knew the little guy could still hear him, he turned to the bullies.

"Do any of you have level seven security clearance?" he asked, watching the group shake their heads. "Then you all have to stay here and don't say a word about this or I'll be back with the mounties."

Okay, so it was a bit over the top, but it made Rodney smile and that was all that mattered. Getting him away from the school, they found a park with an almost empty playground and an ice cream stand. Seemed like a good place to spend the afternoon.

"What does the president want, Lt Colonel Sheppard?"

Right, he had to come up with an emergency that Rodney's kindergarten self would be able to solve. He looked about five, so what problem could he solve at age five … Bingo!

"Here's the thing," John said, lifting him up to stand on a bench so they were eye to eye. "There is a giant marshmallow man heading for New York City."

"Really?" Rodney gaped. "Where did it come from?"

"Um, a mad scientist made it in a castle, but we already arrested him," he answered dismissively. "What we need from you is help to figure out how to stop the marshmallow man before he smashes the city."

"How big is it?"

"30.5 meters," the Colonel replied. "What do you think? Can we save the city?"

Rodney scrunched up his face, crossing his arms in concentration. John held his breath, hoping that he came up with something - anything - that would be a remotely plausible answer for this ridiculous situation.

"Flamethrowers!" the boy blurted out. "Marshmallows melt; try using flamethrowers."

"Kid, you just saved 10,000 people," John praised, picking him up and placing his sneakers back on the ground. "Let's get you an ice cream."

The little hero beamed all the way to the vendor, where he requested a double scoop of chocolate ice cream. While the man was getting his treat, Rodney double checked that the stand had no flavors with citrus and warned the seller of the dangers of cross contamination. That's the McKay they know and love. Once he was handed his treat, John ordered cones for the rest of the team and the group moved back to the benches. While they ate, Rodney brainstormed some back-up ideas - in case the flamethrowers failed.

"You could also try electricity," he suggested with a mouthful of chocolate. "Lightning is really hot and shocking the thing might work in stopping it. And if it doesn't melt, you might have to just blow it up. Rockets could probably do that."

"What if we got some giant ants to eat it?" John questioned.

"Oh, _please_!" Rodney groaned, rolling his eyes. "You would need ants the size of a bus and no one has time to grow them that big."

"My mistake," he said, hiding his smile behind his ice cream.

The rest of his suggestions focused on the best place to shoot a marshmallow to make it explode. Once they were done eating, John told Rodney to enjoy the playground for a while. Happy to have the place to himself - other than one toddler being pushed on a swing - he ran around trying everything. John watched in quiet amusement, wishing there was a way they could make the adult version this happy. But there was no playground that could take away the stress he dealt with, and even if there was he didn't have time to enjoy it.

"It's nice to see him smile again," Teyla commented.

"Yeah," John sighed. "Now if only we could get him to do it without an aluminum chicken on a spring."

"I'm surprised he isn't afraid of falling off," Ronon commented.

"This must be pre-paranoia," the Colonel concluded, watching the boy rock back and forth on the playground toy. "He sure is getting good range."

John remembered playing on those toys, trying to rock hard enough that your back would touch the ground. Rodney didn't have the weight to go that far, but he was doing pretty well for a little guy. After a few minutes he seemed to have burned off the ice cream and came hurrying back to the bench.

"Lt. Colonel Sheppard, will you push me on the merry-go-round?"

"For a little while, but then we should probably get you back to school."

No reason to ruin such a nice day with a visit from the police and kidnapping charges, even if it was only in their heads. His words brought that familiar slump to the kid's shoulders and he mussed up Rodney's hair playfully.

"Cheer up, Buddy. We'll hang out again."

"Here?" he asked hopefully, climbing up among the metal bars.

"Well … maybe not this exact place," John replied, spinning the disc and friend in a circle, "but I bet we'll have just as much fun."

"And ice cream?"

"Yes, we can have ice cream."

This seemed to satisfy the boy and he was able to enjoy their last carefree minutes on the playground. On the way back he held John and Teyla's hands, swinging himself every few steps, while Ronon followed behind them. All too soon, they had made it back to the school.

"You will be back right?" Rodney asked anxiously. "I mean, if the president needs me?"

"We'll be there, even if he doesn't," Ronon promised.

The boy smiled and climbed up the stone steps, waving at the top before disappearing into the building. As John watched him go, the word began to fade away and a warm feeling passed over him ...

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That's if for the memories, now how will they handle reality?

Let me know what you think and I will have the next part up within 12 hours.


	10. Chapter 10

**And now the conclusion ...**

Good morning! We have made it to the final chapter and I hope you are satisfied with the outcome.

This chapter is once again dedicated to my good friends, jennytork and San Antonio Rose, for their support and advice throughout the writing process. :)

Hat's off to my beta, dlldarkwolf, for helping get this ready for publication.

Enjoy ...

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**Chapter 10**

John woke slowly, first becoming aware of something cold and hard against his back then of the voices all around him. His first conscious thought was wondering how he got on the floor, but that was soon replaced by concern when he realized just what was being said above him.

"Gunshot wound … hypothermia … head trauma"

Opening his eyes, he saw Gandu directing several people to transfer McKay from the machine and onto a waiting gurney. John didn't waste any time, ripping the connectors off his head and hurrying over to his friend's side. His stomach was sore and he was a little dizzy, but when he saw McKay none of that mattered. Rodney was pale and damp with sweat. New bandages had been applied to his cheek and forehead, but the twitching had stopped and his face relaxed. That was a good sign, right?

"Colonel Sheppard, you shouldn't be on your feet so soon," Gandu scolded. "I only called for one stretcher."

"How is he?" John demanded, adrenaline kicking in and keeping him on his feet.

"We did what we could for him on our end," the scientist replied, "but it took around twenty minutes for him to get through the last of his memories."

Twenty minutes? It had felt like hours. If it had taken twenty minutes to get through eight memories, how many had Rodney had to experience alone? Teyla and Ronon appeared at his side, neither looking worse for wear.

"He's alive, but he needs medical care," Gandu summarized. "I've arranged for transportation to your ship, but had no way to contact your people."

"We appreciate all you have done," Teyla assured him. "It will not be forgotten."

The scientist was relieved, and honestly so was John. He was in no mood for diplomacy, but these people had enough to offer that it would be a bad idea to burn bridges with them. Of course, the memory machine would not be one of those things, but that went without saying. The trip to the Jumper was quick and soon they were getting McKay settled in the back.

"Sheppard?" he called out weakly, his eyes fluttering open.

"I'm right here, Buddy," John assured him, clasping his shoulder.

"You ... You gave me the plot of Ghostbusters?"

"Hey, you were the one who believed it."

"I was ... five," Rodney groaned. "What's your ... excuse?"

"You were five," he answered with a gentle smile, giving his shoulder a comforting squeeze. "Just sit tight, Kiddo, I'll have you home in no time."

Leaving him to the care of Ronon and Teyla, John moved up to the front and took to the air. Dialing the gate as soon as they were close, he called in a medical emergency. Carson and his team met them in the jumper bay, whisking Rodney off almost as soon as the door opened. It was over an hour, almost as long as he had been hooked up to that damn machine, before they got an update.

"The most serious injury was the gunshot wound in his arm," Carson reported, "but he also has a concussion, mild hypothermia, some small fractures in his wrist, two cracked ribs, along with several lacerations and contusions. That's not even taking into account the stress on the rest of his body."

"What exactly happened?" Elizabeth asked, looking around the table.

"The locals have this kind of memory machine," John answered. "It's supposed to help you get a second chance to fix a mistake."

"The machine allows you to relive a bad memory with the ability to change it for the better," Teyla explained.

"The thing is, it's only supposed to put you through one memory," John continued, "but the machine just kept going. Any time he got hurt in his head, his body thought it was real."

"That explains a few things," Carson interjected. "His head injuries and hypothermia are consistent with when he was in the jumper crash, and the gunshot is exactly where Kolya shot him after he took control of the city."

John winced at the revelation. He wouldn't want to relive those days for anything, and he wasn't the one who got hurt. What else had the guy had to go through again? The injuries painted a grim picture. Had they been able to do enough to help him?

"How many memories did Rodney go through?" their leader questioned.

"We don't know," Ronon said. "We went through eight."

"You?" Elisabeth asked. "I thought Rodney was connected to the machine."

"He was," John confirmed. "The lead scientist hooked the rest of us up to try and lessen the strain. We helped him through the last few."

"That probably saved his life," Carson stated. "It's gonna take time, but he should make a full recovery; physically. As far as his mental state, there is no way of knowing until he wakes up."

If those few lucid moments Rodney had when back in the jumper were any indication, he was going to be just fine. Elizabeth talked about having Dr. Heightmeyer on hand, but John had a few other ideas to help McKay with his recovery. They may have his best intentions in mind, but they didn't have the insight into the guy that his team did. Rodney would be okay, John would make sure of it. In the meantime …

"So, when can we see him?" Ronon asked before he could.

"He's resting now," Carson answered, "but I'll let you know when he wakes up."

An hour later, McKay opened his eyes to see his team already surrounding his bed; the same position they had maintained since the meeting ended.

"Hey," John greeted. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I got run over by a truck," he grumbled. "Someone want to tell me what you were doing at my high school … middle school … that mall …"

"You mean you had a strange dream and I was there, and he was there, and she was there?" John teased.

"How long have you been holding onto that one?" Rodney grunted, shifting in the hospital bed.

"Far too long," he admitted. "Do you remember anything that happened?"

"Remember?" the scientist echoed softly. "I remember a lot. It was a memory machine after all. But ... how did you get there?"

"Gandu hooked us up to try and help you," Teyla explained. "We only wish we had been able to join you sooner."

John wished he hadn't done it in the first place, but there was no reason to make the guy feel worse than he already did. As it was, McKay was more interested in how long he had been out of it and when he could get back to work than talking about what happened. That would come later, but for now they were willing to humor him. It takes time to make a broken kite fly again.

The team was able to visit with him for about half an hour before he started to drift off and Carson kicked them out of the infirmary with orders that they get some sleep too. Complying with the instructions, John heading to his quarters but made a stop on the way. A shrink wasn't going to help McKay. What he needed was to know that he was not facing things alone anymore.

***S*G*A***

Rodney leaned back from his laptop and sighed, trying to rub the kink out of his neck with his good hand. Stupid memories! Stupid machine! Stupid people screwing things up while he was on bed rest! It was going to be at least another week before Carson let him take the brace off his wrist, thus giving him full use of his hands, and his arm still ached from the healing bullet wound. To top it off, he wasn't even the only one that thing had injured. At least John's bruise had only lasted a few days, but the sting of being knocked out by a little old lady would take longer - or at least it would as long as Sheppard insisted on calling him-

"Hey, Kiddo."

_That_.

"Hello, Sheppard. Fight any old ladies recently?

"Not today," he shrugged. "You busy?"

What kind of a question was _that_? He had spent three days in the infirmary with his work piling up, not to mention the fact that he had a stack of request forms to approve various resources or space for experiments. On top of that, the city still had daily maintenance to see to. When was he _not_ busy?

"As a matter of fact, I _am_," he snapped. "Some idiot tied life support into the non-vital systems and I have to get it fixed before a power surge turns the central tower into a Popsicle or worse."

"Let Zelenka take care of it," Sheppard suggested. "You need a break."

Before he could voice what a terrible idea that was, Sheppard had pulled him halfway down the hall. The last view he had of his lab was Radek sitting down at the laptop. How did he get to his lab so fast? Unless- it was a conspiracy!

"What do you think you're doing?" Rodney demanded, trying to pull away.

"Keeping promises."

His answer was confusing, until they reached the rec room. Teyla and Ronon were waiting for them next to a full buffet table. Beer, burgers, pie, pretzels, hot dogs, pizza, granola, pancakes, and ice cream. Every food from his memories - everything they promised they would do with him again. To top it off, Sheppard grabbed a couple of DVDs off the table and held them up.

"Are we starting with Empire Strikes Back or Raiders of the Lost Ark? Your pick."

For a minute, Rodney didn't know what to say. He had assumed they were being so nice to him before because his life depended on it. He never thought they actually meant it, that they would go out of their way … do all this … Damn it! He was _not_ going to cry!

"So … Solo or Jones?" John prodded.

"Solo," he answered when he found his voice.

The Colonel grinned and headed for the DVD player. Ronon handed him a plate and headed down the table to fill up his own. A few minutes later, they were feasting on cheap food and skipping through the previews.

"Where is everyone else?" Rodney asked, glancing around the empty room.

"This is a private party," John answered. "Call it team building if you want, and pass the popcorn."

Rodney wasn't about to complain. Honestly, he didn't know or care how Sheppard and the others pulled it off. What he did know was that this was the first time in a while that he had been able to fully relax. He didn't have to be on his guard here, he didn't need any walls or pretense. No one was going to hurt him, not when he was with his team … his bodyguards … his friends. Smiling at the thought, he leaned back to enjoy the movie.

It was time to make some new memories.

**End**

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So, what did you think of my first multi-chapter story in this world?

Feedback and suggestions are always welcome (and I do try to apply suggestions to future posts).

Thanks for reading! I'm off to work on the next story ... :)


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